


Draco's Disastrous Dilemma

by remarkable1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood is the Only Fluid I'm warning of, Bodily Fluids, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crying, Demon Summoning, Doh!, Draco Malfoy Bashing, Evil Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Licking, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki is Not Amused (Marvel), No Sex, No Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Spell Failure, Spells & Enchantments, Swearing, Terror, Threats of Violence, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remarkable1/pseuds/remarkable1
Summary: One should always ensure a summoning spell is properly performed or they will end up at the end of a very angry God's ire.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4
Collections: Marvelously Magical Bingo 2021, Tropes and Fandoms 2021





	Draco's Disastrous Dilemma

This fic was written for Marvelously Magical's Roll-A-Drabble on Facebook. My roll was Draco/Loki and Locked in a room. This Also fulfills the same trope, Locked-In-A-Room, for G4 on my MM's Bingo Card. Yay! This also fulfills Melting Pot's Tropes and Fandoms roll, with the trope, Dark!

"Where have you been? Please update your other stories!" 

I am hearing you. My daughter's medical issues continue to get more complicated and exhausting, and we are still in lockdown quarantine for the immediate future. It's been a year now and we're exhausted from that as well. Hang in there with me. My mental health is sagging like an old lady's tits.

"Imbecile!"

"Mud- uh. Whatever you are, this isn't my fault!"

Draco crossed his arms petulantly, turning up his aristocratic nose at the dark-haired man-god-blue-thing that had suddenly appeared in Draco's dad's super-not-so-secret-demon-summoning-Malfoy-Manor-sub-dungeon.

The being that claimed to be Loki, an ancient Norse god worshipped by barbaric Mudbloods from millennia past, advanced on him. Shit. The dude was _tall_. 

Draco backed up until his back hit the tall bookshelf behind him, sending a cloud of dust billowing out. He coughed and wretched a little, waving his wand with a simple spell to clear the air. When he looked up, blue-guy was obnoxiously close to him. Draco could have reached up and kissed him if he'd wanted to. Well, if he'd wanted to freeze his lips off. The guy was a walking icebox!

"A little space? How am I supposed to get us out of here if you insist on crowding me, you big oaf?"

A wicked smile full of sharp teeth sent a chill that had nothing to do with frost-man, through Draco's body. It was a thrill of terror, arousal, and something much deeper. He recognized it as magick connecting with magick. Well, well. Perhaps there was something to this Loki's story, after all.

Acting nonchalant, Draco sidled past him, the ruby-red eyes following him, the large body twisting to spin on a heel and observe what the wizard would do next.

Back to the altar, he zipped, and Draco hurriedly riffled through the pages.

"What do you think you are doing, mortal?" sneered the voice of the god.

"Trying to find a spell to get us out of here. I don't know what you did, but I've never had this problem before. My father put safeguards in place to make sure shite like this didn't happen."

Long, spindly fingers reached out and snatched the heavy tome out from under Draco's hands like it was a feather. Draco swallowed, his own fingers fluttering mid-air where a moment ago he'd been turning pages. He was starting to sense he was in a spot of trouble. 

"My - my spell failed," he said around a frog in his throat, refusing to meet the gaze of Loki, who was leaning into his space again over the side of the altar. Draco gripped the edge with the hand not holding his wand, yanking it back when he saw the marble was frosted over, giving his skin a sharp bite of pain.

"You will clarify. What - exactly - were you attempting to summon?"

"How did you know I was trying to summon anything? I could have been casting any number of -"

The god threw the now-closed book under Draco's nose, a long, black, pointy fingernail scratching a blemish into the delicate book's leather cover right under the gold-gild lettering of the title. It read, _Summon a Demon, If You Dare. How to Call On The Gods To Do Your Bidding."_

"Uh, right." 

Draco's brain felt like the switch had been flipped off permanently. His thoughts swam in a miasma of gibbering terror. Anything he summoned wasn't supposed to be able to come out of the sacred circle he'd drawn and cast. The book said nothing about summoning _real_ Gods. Father had said real Gods didn't exist. Father had also insisted that the Gods the book was referring to were over-blown, egotistical demons. Well, Draco just wanted to stomp on Lucius' grave and scream at the headstone. Obviously, Daddy had been wrong.

"Welllll?" The extended hissed syllable was punched right into his ear by the exhalation of the terrifying creature invading every spare millimeter of space. 

"Summoning - a- -a G-god to d-do my bidding?" Draco replied shakily, his voice failing to maintain control as it rose shakily at the end.

"Hm. How droll."

Loki retreated and tossed the dusty book into the middle of the floor, knocking over a spate of candles, the book going up in flames.

"Hey! That book is over a thousand years old!" Draco exclaimed, hurrying to stomp out the flames. He was too late. It vanished almost instantly in a cloud of oily smoke like dry tinder, causing the wizard to cough again. 

"That's not supposed to happen. There are protection spells on everything in here!" he protested, a bit angry and forgetting himself for a moment. Feeling indignant, his foolish courage welled up into his chest, and he re-entered the space of Loki, defiantly meeting his gaze. The ass was smirking at him like this was funny! "That book was priceless! Replace it, now! I command you!"

"Oh, you do, do you?" Loki cocked his head in amusement. "You? Puny mortal wizard, who imagines himself to be oh-so-powerful, dare to command me, Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim, God of Mischief, and God among Mortal Men, to do your bidding?"

Draco's courage evaporated as quickly as it rose. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, soon crushed flat to his skin by the icy hand that wrapped completely around his neck, squeezing until he could barely breathe.

"Drop that ridiculous piece of wood. Now."

Wand clattering to the ground, Draco cringed inside, a few tears springing to his eyes as Loki splintered the precious wand to shreds under a boot. 

"You're supposed to listen to me! The book said- said-," Draco croaked out, desperate.

His feet scrabbled on the floor as he choked, the icy hand squeezing, lifting him, so Draco slipped, trying to find purchase with the tip-toe of his dragon-hide boots, and failing.

"Your. Bidding."

The words were practically spat into the wizard's face, a few flecks of ick landing on Draco's cheek. 

Idly, Loki loosened his grasp suddenly and dropped the mortal to the floor. It was a pity he couldn't kill the little bastard. He needed the brat to get them out of the rotten little hole in the ground that reeked of magic more powerful than even Loki's own. Black magick. 

Draco coughed and sputtered, holding his throat as he lay on his side, eyes streaming drops of liquid as he struggled to soothe his bruised windpipe.

Carrying on as if it were a civil conversation, Loki continued, circling. "Do you know what I usually do with imbecilic morons that pathetically attempt to fuck with control of me? No?" 

The question was rhetorical, but Draco shook his head anyway, forehead on the ground, still gasping.

"I crush their skulls under my boot and watch their brains ooze from their ears. That's if I'm in a good mood, which I am not," he continued casually. "I am not familiar with the magicks placed on this chamber. However, I do recognize the stench of a demon. It permeates every surface in this room. Mortals will never cease to amaze me in their witless attempts to control that which they do not understand."

Loki paused, then crouched, tilting Draco's juddering chin up with one long-nailed finger. Terror greeted the god. Perfect.

"We're going to find a way out of here. You and I."

"W-what are you g-going to d-do with me?" Draco whispered. He'd pissed in his pants.

"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, little morsel," Loki sneered. "You see, your forebears had the wherewithal to place fail-safes on their summoning. The little brains they possessed ended when they spawned _you._ " Loki emphasized, squeezing the chin hard, slamming down on the back of Draco's head with his other hand, smashing the wizard's nose into the smoothed, flagstone floor.

Draco shouted a garbled-hoarse sound that Loki had long thrilled to hear from a victim. Oh, the God of Mischief was under terrible scrutiny these days, yet there was nothing Heimdall, nor anyone else could do while he was locked beyond their sights. Loki tended to take full advantage of this opportunity to wreak his brand of evil fun before returning to do-gooder Asgard with its frivolities and fake smiles.

"One very important element is missing from your pathetic ritual. Your. Blood." 

Loki grabbed Draco by the arm and hoisted him to his feet in one go, grasped the wizard's ruined shirt in a fist, and lifted him over his head. Lowering the mortal until their noses touched, Loki's long tongue slipped out and licked a frozen stripe from Draco's bloody chin, over his crushed nose, and up to his damaged forehead. Draco moaned miserably, not even trying to contain his terror anymore.

Drawing back, Loki grinned that horrible smile once more. "Oh, yes. You and I are going to get to know each other very, very well. Then, when I decide I've had enough, I will find a way out of this hole, you will assist, and then you will be _mine._ "

Draco whimpered, his head shaking frantically. "You didn't think I was going to kill you, did you?" Loki asked almost tenderly. "Oh no. You will repay this travesty to me, in spades, and only then will I let you die. Slowly. Painfully. In every way that terrifies your pea brain."

"No."

"Yes."

If anyone had been chained, at that very moment, in the long-empty dungeons of Malfoy Manor, they might have been able to make out the sounds of frantic screaming from below. 

Alas, there wasn't a soul to give audience to Draco Malfoy's wretched shrieks.

The moral of the story? Don't fuck with the Gods.


End file.
